Improxycal
by ClareNinja
Summary: A young girl with a less-than-pleasant past encounters the Slender Man, who to her surprise offers her a much more pleasant future.
1. Prelude

_**Prologue - or, "The Pre-Story"**_

**T**he old, creaky house doesn't look like much. It's surrounded by the woods near the Lara Cross Park, where most kids have no reason to go, but typically will if feeling particularly headstrong (or reckless… whichever you prefer).

I hear rumors about it all the time at school. Some kids think that some murder or other was committed there. I think one of the most ridiculous speculations I ever heard was one from a Harry Potter fanatic. I could tell they were a Harry Potter fanatic because they referred to the place as "the Shrieking Shack."

Okay, yeah, I also know how to recognize an HP fanatic because I was one – at one point. For only like a couple weeks. That was ages ago, though… or it seems like it.

Whispers and murmurs and giggles and scoffs, all about this one rickety little "shack".

This shack that I am proud to call my home.

Nobody actually _knows _it's my home, of course. Not anybody at school. They're all caught up in their typical Hardy Boys daydreams, thinking up these magnificent investigations that they'll never actually initiate in reference to my house. Nah. As brave as they might be in their heads, they're flat out wusses in reality. You should see the way the students at my school freak out about the dumbest legends. The whole "bath salts will cause Armageddon" theory spread like wildfire through Henderson High. Seriously, I heard some guy actually started up a zombie defense club – it only had a few members, but evidently some people were convinced enough that they felt the need to prep for the apocalypse. Or once, some of the nerds in our school (that said without offense, as I consider myself one) found a story about a Pokémon game that went by the name Black Version. It was supposedly a demented rendition of the first Pokémon games created with a reasonably creepy idea behind it. I heard some of them swear that they'd go insane if they ever heard the Lavender Town theme again.

I would too. But only because the song gets stuck in my head and drives me nuts all on its own. I don't need to hear a spooky story about a game for that song to drive me up a wall.

And then there are these stories about Slender Man going around. The game _Slender_ went viral a long time ago, but apparently my high school was left out of the loop until the past few months. People all over school have been raving to each other about how many pages they found and how they totally freaked when they turned around and found Slender Man behind them. And of course everybody's been cracking up at the crazy reaction videos up on YouTube and whatnot.

But all this time, I haven't been cracking up at the videos. I've been cracking up at _them_. They have absolutely no idea what the Slender Man is really like. They've let their childish minds run wild in search of another freaky story to spook the nation and get the most views or likes or comments, or whatever. I'm sure it's never even occurred to them that all of it is fake, this business about Slender Man kidnapping and killing and all that fun stuff. Sure, some of them have been persuaded into believing in his existence. They believe in a man with long arms, tentacles, and no face, that's keen on seizing and murdering innocent little children that have somehow made their way into a dark forest with nothing but a flashlight to keep them company. The story that everybody knows, that everyone was spoon-fed through the wonders of the World Wide Web – that's what they believe.

Well, those believers have got some of it right.

The Slender Man does exist. He does have long arms and tentacles, and he does lack any trace of a facial feature. But kidnapping? Please. The Slender Man has a life outside of being the subject of people's myths. And I would know.

I mean, I do live with him, after all.

Unfortunately, the way in which I met the Slender Man somewhat lines up with the urban legends. I met him in the woods in the middle of the night, and if you want me to be completely honest, yes, I psyched out when I first saw him. But there's a story before that story.

And this pre-story, shall we say, concerns what I'm sad to call my first few years on this earth.

I was technically an orphan. My parents were dead by the time I was old enough to remember anything. They died in a plane accident. Flight 13 on Fine Euro Airlines had a seagull fly into one of the turbines, and then nosedived into the Atlantic Ocean. It just figures my parents went for the Flight of the Unlucky Number, or so I've come to call it. Just goes to show that they were rich and reckless.

Adding on to the recklessness, mommy and daddy dearest decided to leave me with my uncle, of all people. My drunk, irresponsible uncle, who wouldn't have cared if I threw my one-year-old self off the roof while I was under his "care." And I was stuck under said "care" for two and a half more _years _than planned. My uncle didn't so much as flinch when he got the phone call concerning my parents' deaths.

I was almost two by the time he actually got the call. Evidently my uncle was so drunk he didn't even give another thought to the fact that I was still in his musty old house after so many months… let alone to the fact that these were _my parents _he was being called about. I remember seeing him pick up the phone, grumbling about how he wondered why he even bothered paying for the thing. He answered it with a blunt "Yeah?"

I was sitting on the floor not too far from him, doodling on an old newspaper with a stubby pencil. But my uncle didn't get phone calls very often. So my attention was all on him and that phone.

"Yeah, she's my sister," my uncle slurred into the receiver. "Why?"

Being so young, I didn't yet understand that if someone was your uncle, it meant they were related to one of your parents. He was talking about my mom, and I had no idea.

Yet.

The person on the other end must have talked for a little while, because it was a couple of minutes before my uncle finally snorted. "Is that so," he mumbled. He paused for a moment, and then said into the phone, "Well that's just great. She's hauled off and died, then."

I recognized that word. _Died_? Who? Who died? I dropped my pencil, filled with curiosity. Straining to hear the other half of the conversation, I only picked up a few mechanical tones. My uncle shot a glance at me. I was starting to wonder if I had done something wrong – usually that's why he'd give me such a look – until he said loudly into the phone, "Well, she left her kid here at my place. What am I supposed to do about that?"

He was recognizing my presence for once. That was different. But at the same time, a light bulb clicked on in my little brain. He was talking about me now. And "me" was someone's kid… a "she"—Mom? He was talking about my mom? I rewound to what my uncle had uttered earlier.

_She's hauled off and died, then. _"She" was Mommy. And Mommy was dead.

Using a toddler's logic, I came to the conclusion that if Mommy was dead, so was Daddy.

Someone give a prize to the little girl on the floor.

Sadly, the only thing left to do – as the government or whoever saw it – was to leave me in my uncle's custody. My grandparents on my mother's side never approved of her marriage to my father, let alone to her having a daughter with him. I found that out during one of my uncle's insane rants. Usually they weren't about anything in particular. He'd begin by ranting about anything that he might trip over in his typical drunk state of being, and from there he'd find a reason to holler about anything else within range of his blurred vision. But just this one time, he decided to rant about my mother.

"Wernt off 'n got erlupped, tha' gurl!" he blurted to no one in particular, but being a toddler, I was easily entertained by the way his voice wavered and squeaked and burbled from his mouth. It sounded like his tongue was doing somersaults as he ranted on, "Juss like muh sister to do suh-mm like tha'… Mom ne'er rully liked the guy, but thur she went, like the rubble she ahlweys was."

Looking back, I can translate my uncle's drunken speech. In saying that she, a "rubble" likely to do "suh-mm" like get "erlupped," he meant that my mother was a _rebel _bound to do _something_ like get _eloped_. At the time, I didn't understand the words, but it sounded so funny coming out of my uncle's liquor-coated lips, how could I forget it?

And of course my mother's parents weren't keeping in contact with their son,my wasted uncle – I guess I can't blame them. What would there be to communicate with him about, other than putting up with his unintelligible raging (or, heaven forbid, trying to convince him to go into rehab)? Regardless, whoever was determining my future home didn't have much luck talking to them. I can't say I mind that much. I never met them in the one year I might have had a chance to, and even then I might not remember it.

On my father's side, my grandparents were both dead already when this home-determiner person searched my family tree for other guardians. (I guess I should give them credit for at least doing that… trying to put an end to my misery with my uncle and all.) My father was their only child, and they bore him at an older age than most parents do. I've never tried to find out how they died, so I've come to assume that some disease or other found its way into their elderly bodies and took over from there.

I had absolutely nowhere else where I could be legally taken care of, and since my uncle was a blood relative that was still alive, I couldn't be sent to foster care or an orphanage. To be blatantly honest, I don't think staying at any orphanage could have been _half _as bad as living with my uncle. The closest thing to a hug from him was being picked up by a bony, hairy arm around the waist to be tossed onto my bed (a battered mattress and a tattered blanket). There were no bedtime stories or lullabies or goodnight kisses from my uncle. In their place, I received the scratch of a five-o-clock shadow at my ear as my uncle teased, "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

That phrase was never preceded by "goodnight." Ever.

Come to think of it, I guess it wouldn't have surprised me if that bed _did _have bugs in it.

Thankfully, it didn't…


	2. Chapter 1 - Little Rebel on the Run

_**1 - "Little Rebel on the Run"**_

**M**y uncle foresaw my flight from his abode. I know this because he began threatening me about what might happen if I did. Instead of the usual warning about the bed bugs, his scratchy voice would whisper into my ear about the scary creatures in the woods.

As I curled up underneath my holey blue blanket, wishing my uncle would just let me go to sleep, he'd stand in the doorway to my room, a menacing shadow. "Wolves are out tonight," he'd say, looking into the distance as though he could sense their presence. Of course there were no wolves in the surrounding area, but I was a toddler. I _almost _believed him when he'd continue, "They're lookin' for a nice little girl like you, I'll betcha. Run into them, they'll take two bites and you'll be nothin' but a pile o' little girl bones."

Oddly enough, the only part of that raspy whisper that struck me as intriguing was the fact that he referred to me as a "nice little girl," instead of something pointlessly rude, like he usually did. "Nice little girl" was different from "little female dog," to be sure.

The spooky warnings continued for several nights. Every time, the story would change, hinting at a different creature in the woods that was on the lookout for a little girl like myself. After the threat about the wolves came one about snakes that could kill me with one bite. Then came the stories of bats and spiders, and one about the trees themselves (my uncle claimed they came to life at night and trapped anyone passing through with their branches).Then the threat about wolves evolved into one concerning werewolves; vampires, witches, ghosts, and zombies followed, their descriptions all somehow containing the phrase "looking for a little girl like you." The threats only continued to progress in ridiculousness. I'll admit that the descriptions of these creatures didn't completely bypass my thoughts. It wasn't fun going to sleep imagining yourself being cornered against a tree by a mangled living-dead entity. But even as a toddler, I knew that my uncle was trying all too hard to scare me out of running away.

Which was ironic, because to me, nothing was scarier than staying with my uncle.

It was strange to think that my uncle was trying to keep me from running off in the first place. He'd never shown any sort of care for me. He'd provided me with the bare necessities, but I was a toddler… meaning any complaint I made about my circumstances wouldn't have had much effect even if my uncle did listen to me. I mean, how many times have people heard little kids say the craziest things, and just brushed them off?

How about too many times to count?

In any case, I eventually came to the conclusion that my uncle didn't care whether I lived or died so long as it was under his roof.

When I turned four, I was the only one to acknowledge it.

Well… to be completely honest, I'm not sure on what day I turned four, exactly. My uncle hadn't known when my birthday was, nor would he have cared in the first place. And of course, I was too young to have known when it was before coming into my uncle's home. So I had to invent my own date of birth so I could keep track of how "big" I was getting, to put it into toddler's terms.

In any case, turning four was somewhat of a new beginning in my eyes. I had decided a few months ago that when I turned another year old, I would be "big" enough to leave my uncle's house for good. And now, the time had come.

The morning of September twenty-seventh – my chosen date of birth – came at last, after what felt like much too long. I solemnly folded my tattered blanket and placed it at the end of my mattress, as though to bid farewell to the fraying objects. I pulled on a black T-shirt with a Nirvana emblem on it. It was a drastically oversized garment for a child, being an "Adult Small" that my uncle just happened to have lying around his messy abode. However, it was the cleanest thing I had in regards to clothes at the time, and I had to look my best. I had to look grown up. I was striking out from my uncle's house. It was a big deal, and I had to dress for the occasion, I thought to myself. Nodding in self-affirmation, I yanked on my slightly torn jeans and socks, and my lone pair of sneakers – secondhand Chuck Taylors. Only one size too big for me, they were the only existing evidence that my uncle might have cared for me at one point, given to me when I was a little older than three. Then again, he'd probably only bought them to stop me from complaining about being unable to "have no shoes forever." Now I stuffed the laces down alongside my feet, not yet knowing how to tie them.

I stood up straight, looking around my dimly lit room for the last time. Nodding to the room as though bidding it goodbye, I turned on my heel and sought out my uncle.

It wasn't hard to find him. He lay sprawled on the old couch in what you might call the living room of the house, but what I'd come to think of as the junk drawer of the house. Aluminum cans with soda and beer labels on them were scattered around the musty carpet, dented or crushed. My uncle's brown shoes, reeking like usual, had been carelessly kicked across the room. Fast food bags and wrappers littered the squashy armchair in the corner. The only tidy thing in the room was my stack of newspapers, which I'd taught myself to read so as to keep track of the passing days. Organized into a perfect rectangular prism, they sat tranquilly near the fake fireplace not too far from the smelly shoes.

After drifting around the messy room, my gaze rested distastefully on my uncle, the hung-over creature that was supposed to be my guardian. He hadn't shaven in days, and a grayish-brown layer of whiskers covered his face from the tip of his chin to the sides of his ears. His arms, with their whiskers of the same color, drooped around his snoozing form, one of them dangling off of the side of the couch. As I watched, one of his fingers twitched. Staring at his bony, hairy hand, I wondered whether I should just leave him be. Let him sleep and then experience the surprise of me not being in his home anymore.

I smirked at the thought. No. I couldn't give him the satisfaction of having such a pleasant surprise. I would tell him now, regardless of whether it registered in his hollow skull or not.

I cleared my throat decidedly. "Uncle," I said clearly, straightening my back once again.

The finger twitched in response, but I wasn't quite satisfied. "Uncle," I repeated.

Now it was his nose that twitched as he stirred slightly, one of his hands coming up as though to rub at his eyes. He didn't do so, however. He merely opened one eye just barely, and then let his hand flop back down to hanging off of the couch. He sighed, sounding more like he was growling than anything. "What…?" he grumbled, the T sound stretching into a hissing S.

Yet again, I straightened up importantly. "I'm grown-up enough now," I declared. "I'm leaving."

Now both of my uncle's eyes opened, staring at me blankly for a moment before shutting again. He gave a short, raspy laugh. "Are you really."

It was said as more of a statement than a question, but I answered him regardless. "Yes, I am," I said with a sharp nod of my head.

"Hmph… didn't I tell yeh there was monsters out there?"

I lifted my chin confidently. "I don't believe you."

"Mmm…" My uncle rolled onto his side, his eyes opening a little to look at me. "Y'know," he said, his voice dripping with the effects of alcohol, "there's one thing I didn't tell yeh."

I wasn't exactly sure how to respond to this. I hadn't planned on him actually wanting to talk to me, let alone fully waking up to acknowledge my departure.

Well… then again, he wasn't fully awake, to be truthful. But he was as awake as his hangover would allow him to be.

"Out there," he began with a hiccup, "there's a big tall man… Got no face. Called the Slender Man. Grabs people up. Kidnaps li'l kids and does scary things with 'em. Real scary…"

I was starting to ignore my uncle already. This was just another tale he was trying to use to scare me out of running away. But why he even bothered was a mystery to me.

"If he gets yeh," he continued, "you won't be able to come runnin' back to me… You'll have no legs to run with. He'll rip 'em right off, 'n eat you then 'n there."

That was not a pretty image. But I brushed it out of my mind quickly, jumping to the conclusion that my uncle was once again trying to freak out the innocent little girl. But I wasn't a little girl, not from my own perspective. I was four years old – big enough to get out of my uncle's house, and stay out for good if I could help it.

"I don't believe you," I said again. "You just want to scare me."

His glazed-over brown eyes looked straight into mine. "Say what you want," he drawled. "But you can't say I didn't warn you."

And with that, his eyes shut and his form went entirely limp again. He drifted off to Drunken-Dreamland and there was no getting him back. Not now, anyway.

I thought on his words for a mere moment before shrugging away any worry I might have had. I wasn't afraid of anything, I thought to myself. I was a big girl now. Fearless!

With that, I picked up my baggy, navy-blue windbreaker from the ground beside the door. Slipping it on, I took a deep breath, and then exhaled decidedly. Here we go, I thought.

My small hand twisted the dented doorknob, pulling the squeaky door open. Stepping into the cool autumn air, I turned around to give the interior of the house one last look. But there wasn't any sentimentality keeping me from leaving this place. I gave a disdained sniff at the messy room, then shut the door firmly.

This was it.

I was officially out, and on my own.

Unfortunately, getting out the door was as far as I had planned.

I mean, come on! That's the most exciting part, right? Finally escaping from the nightmarish home of my early childhood, a bold little girl out on the adventure of a lifetime… It sent a rush of energy through me, even as I took the first few steps away from my uncle's house. Striding out onto the dry grass that was my uncle's front lawn, I inhaled the cool autumn air – a refreshing scent after the stench of the unkempt house.

But now, as I looked around myself, my determination faded a little. I was four, and my uncle had rarely taken me anywhere with him, let alone let me out the door. Only now was I realizing how much of a disadvantage that gave me. I didn't know where I was in relation to anything else. I had no idea where a certain sidewalk or road would take me.

I was only a number of yards from my uncle's house, and I was, in essence, lost.

My eyes were wide in realization as I just stood there, the wind blowing my hair into my face, the feeling of defeat seeming to seep into me. Where was I supposed to go? The only thing I knew for a fact was that I was not giving in. I was _not _going to turn around and head back into that musty old house. …But where would I go?

I shook my head violently, as though to rattle any helplessness out of my brain. Did it really matter where I went? I thought. Nearly anybody else in this world would be friendlier than my uncle. If they saw me, the little girl without an accompanying adult, maybe they'd do something about it.

I nodded to myself. That was good. Now all I had to do was go someplace where adults were usually present.

Which was pretty much anywhere!

Stepping onto the nearby sidewalk, I started walking east of my uncle's house. I didn't know where it led to, but I knew it had to go somewhere that other people were. Otherwise, why would there be a sidewalk, if there was nobody to walk on it? I smiled to myself optimistically. Someone would see me, I thought to myself, nodding again. Someone will help me out!

My walk became a confident stride when I realized I was approaching a small town. I didn't recognize it, but it seemed to be the perfect place to find adults! I stuck out my chin, swinging my arms as I strode on into the town. I imagined people staring at me with their mouths open, whispering, "Look at her. How grown-up she is."

(Don't judge. I was four! Of course I'd want them to say something like that.)

I started looking into the windows of the buildings as I passed. First came a restaurant with two big windows on either side of the entrance, and tables right near the windows. I jumped at the first pane of glass, pressing my hands against it and peering through. There wasn't anyone at the table nearest the window, but I could see people at a bar towards the back of the restaurant. Two men and a woman sat on tall stools, gawking at a football game on a television while a waitress served drinks from behind the bar. Hoping she might notice me without any effort on my part, I kept my hands on the glass for a minute or so. But she took no notice of me, as she was busy chatting it up with the female customer she was serving.

In order to get her attention, I rapped my knuckles lightly on the window. The waitress didn't notice, so I rapped a little harder. She still didn't look my way. Finally I slapped the palms of my hands against the glass.

All three customers and the waitress looked in my direction, all of them wearing the same expression – one that I like to call "weirded-out." I pulled my hands from the window a little sheepishly, and my face flushed with color. The waitress had her head tipped to the side as she looked at me, and I saw the female customer say something to her. She gave the customer a response, and then walked around the bar, coming towards the entrance.

I scooted from my place to the door, which opened to reveal the thin, middle-aged waitress, wearing a puzzled expression. Her red hair was frizzy, tied back in a ponytail, and her blue eyes looked me over, her brow furrowing. "Is there something I can help you with, honey?" she asked, her voice sounding uncertain but friendly.

My hopes were already too high. She seemed really nice. She called me 'honey.' Maybe…

I opened my mouth to respond, and then realized that saying "I need a new place to live" would probably not be a good thing to say. It was my turn to furrow my brow, as I emitted a quiet, "Um…"

The waitress looked at me patiently, waiting for me to answer. I, however, wasn't sure how to describe my situation in a light fashion. My little brain whirled, searching for a response, but I couldn't find one that'd be proper to say to a complete stranger.

I shuffled one of my feet and looked up at the waitress innocently. All that came out of my mouth was another "Um…"

The waitress tilted her head to the side again, shaking it back and forth, making her frizzy red ponytail swing on the back of her head. "Honey," she said, dimples showing as she smiled, "you ought to go find your mommy. You shouldn't be here on your own."

I perked up a little. She had noticed I was alone! That was step one.

"But I don't have a mommy," I said, without thinking very much.

The woman's facial expression returned to one of confusion. "Well then, what about your daddy?"

"I don't have a daddy," I said, my voice losing its tone a little. Duh, my parents were dead, I thought to myself. Didn't everyone know that?

"Well…" The waitress cleared her throat, clearly feeling a little awkward. "Ah…how did a little girl like you get here?"

"I walked," I said simply. "From my uncle's house."

"Well, then, you should probably head back," she said cheerfully. "Your uncle's probably worried."

"No, he isn't," I said, sounding indignant.

"Why ever wouldn't he be?" the waitress asked.

"I don't know," I said. "But my uncle doesn't care about me."

The waitress smiled cheekily. "Oh," she said, "I'm sure your uncle cares about you. It may not seem like it, but I'm sure he does. You should head on back, now. He's probably worried sick."

"He's not worried," I insisted. "He doesn't care—"

But this time, the waitress cut me off. "Honey, you need to head on home now. This isn't the place for you to be alone." She paused, looking a little resentful. "I'm sorry your uncle doesn't seem to care about you, but I'm sure he actually does. Now run along, hon."

"But…"

The word came out in almost a whisper as the waitress shut the door of the restaurant, presumably returning to her place behind the bar to keep a candid conversation with her three customers. No doubt she'd tell them some silly little girl came to the door without anyone to accompany her, I figured.

Momentarily, I felt put out, but I decided to keep walking through the town and checking out the other buildings. No doubt there'd be _someone _who'd see a lone little girl and want to help her out, I thought as I approached the next building, which turned out to be a small miscellaneous clothing store. Looking through the glass door, I saw an acne-ridden teenage boy standing behind a counter. I couldn't help giving him a funny look. He didn't _look_ like someone who could help me, I thought, but there was no harm in trying.

I decided to go into the shop myself this time. A bell tinkled as I pulled out the door, which required a lot of strength on my part. I had to hold the handle with both hands and throw all of my weight backwards, and then dash through the doorway, just in time to enter the store without having the door shut on me –

Well, except for my foot. _That _got caught between the door and its frame. I gasped, turning to shove the door off of my foot. Panting a little, I turned back towards the interior of the store and its sole employee. Evidently bored, he had his elbows resting on the counter, and he watched me with an expressionless stare. I huffed a little, frustrated that he hadn't tried to help me out – or something. Just then, another worker came through a door at the back of the store. He appeared to be no older than the first, and he glanced at me. I stared him down unabashedly, wondering if he was as passive as his coworker.

He ran a hand over his spiky brown hair and stood with his back against the counter. "Hey," he said to me. "Why're you here on your own?"

This again? I wanted to sigh in exasperation, but even at such a young age, I knew I was in no position to do so. "I…uh," I began hesitantly. "I… ran away from my uncle's house." Might as well just say it, I figured, since they probably wouldn't care anyway.

Their reactions only proved my prediction to be true. "Oh-ho," the first worker said with a smirk. He stood up from bending over the counter and flipped his black bangs across his forehead. "A little rebel on the run." He slapped his hands down on the counter in amusement.

The spiky-haired employee snickered along with the first. "Looks like," he remarked. Turning to me, he said, "Kid, you'd better just go back. It's not so easy striking out on your own."

"I'm not going back," I said plainly, but I was scowling nonetheless.

The first employee covered his mouth, laughing. His coworker shrugged. "Whatever," he said. "Can't say I didn't warn you."

I stared at him momentarily. _Can't say I didn't warn you._ The same words my uncle had left me with before dozing off again…

The teen looked back at me amusedly, raising an eyebrow, before turning around to face the counter. I frowned at him; I couldn't see his face, but his shoulders were trembling with laughter.

I turned on my heel, went to the door, and flung all of my weight against it to force it open. I heard the worker with long bangs scoff at me from behind this time, and I refrained from turning back to glare at him. Instead, I just shoved my way out of the store, and headed down the sidewalk once again.

I stopped at every door I passed, peering through windows of all sorts – clear, tinted, and once, mirrored. There was also a building with its windows completely blackened, whether by a cloth on the inside or a color in the panes themselves; I decided that if the people in there didn't want to see out their windows, then _I _didn't want to see _in_.

I tapped on windows, pressed my forehead against it, even breathed a cloud of fog onto one of them and drew a zigzag in it. Some store employees didn't even notice me, while some came to the door with patient confusion. I got called a number of names, ranging in levels of kindness from "sweetie" to "nuisance." Sometimes I was given things: an older woman in a card shop gave me a cookie, and a middle-aged man in a toy store gave me a tiny flashlight on a keychain. I was surprised he'd give me such an object, but he wagged his finger at me, winking.

"If you're still wandering around by the time it gets dark out," he said, "you might need it. Who knows?"

Mentally, I questioned how slow of a walker he thought I was. It had only taken me roughly a quarter of an hour to get here from my uncle's home. Nonetheless, I took the trinket from his large, rough hand, and offered a smile in return. I decided that he must have given it to me in an attempt to show sympathy… even if it was in a very cheap fashion.

But no matter who I talked to – male or female, mature or pubescent, seemingly kind or seemingly unkind – I got the same response: "Go back to where you came from."

I paid a visit to every restaurant and store in town that I could access, and by the time I was done, I was thoroughly worn out. It couldn't have been much later than around three in the afternoon. I was becoming hungry, and my legs were sore from walking around so much. Trudging on through the town, I eventually stopped entering the stores. My hopes were only being crushed as it was. Nobody seemed to understand that I could never again call my uncle's house my true home.

Eventually, I passed the last few buildings, stepping onto a path that was no longer made of concrete, but of gravel. A grassy expanse to the right of the path led slightly downhill. Disappointed and absentminded, I let my gaze follow the angle of the land, drifting off past the bottom of the slope. Across the grassy openness, I noticed what looked like a playground, with a couple tiny figures running around it. A small smile formed on my face. Well, I thought, even if I couldn't find anything in the town… a park was always worth the chance.

I headed straight down the grassy hill, towards the play equipment some several hundred yards away. My mind wandered as I walked, touching depressing subjects such as where I was going to sleep tonight, where I'd find something to eat, how I'd get more clothes for myself. My lowly trudge became more like dragging myself on with every unanswered question. My eyes welled up with tears, but I refused to let them fall. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I looked forward towards the playground.

I was only about a hundred yards away now, and as I came closer I could see the equipment clearly. The playground was any child's dream, a three-story castle of metal pillars and rubber-coated platforms surrounded by mulch. A fireman's pole, a few different climbing ladders, and three different slides were built onto the sides. A plastic steering wheel and a two-way, metal "telephone" system were attached to the metal supports.

I gazed at the structure for a minute or so, standing in amazement not too far from its black plastic borderline. The smile that formed on my face was involuntary, but I wouldn't have prevented it anyway. Looking at this miniature wonderland of amusement was enough to make any kid happier, and it brightened my mood, if just a little.

Suddenly, a young boy tore around the corner of a bottom platform, kicking up wood chips as he zoomed around the play equipment. I jumped at his unexpected and speedy arrival, watching him sprint off, and nearly got a wad of mulch on my shirt as another child, a girl, followed suit. They circled the whole playground a few times, the boy taunting his playmate. I heard chuckling, and past the structure I could see two women sitting on a bench – presumably, the two kids' mothers. I felt a pang of jealousy for a moment, but the loud voice of the boy startled me out of my sorrow.

" _Nyah nyah! Nyah nyah!_" he yelled, dashing up the platforms to the tallest level. He stopped on a rubber-coated bridge, sticking his tongue out at the girl. "Can't catch me!"

She paused for a mere moment to giggle, and then clambered up the structure right after him. He gave a short yell, and slipped down the nearby spiral slide, hollering all the way to the ground.

He came out facing me, laughing, his eyes crinkling shut with glee. I was grinning by now. Seeing such joy on the faces of other kids had put me in the mood as well. I began laughing too, something I hadn't done in quite a while, and the boy heard me. His laughter faded, and he gawked at me with his head cocked a little.

Immediately, I felt embarrassed. Of course, I remembered, I was a complete stranger to this boy. And, no doubt, I must have looked like quite a piece of work. My baggy, roughed-up clothes basically hung on my skinny body, my hair was a tangled mess, and now to top it all off I was blushing madly. It probably did appear strange that I'd be laughing for seemingly no reason, I reasoned. I ducked my head sheepishly, almost feeling obliged to apologize.

Much to my surprise, though, I heard the boy hop down from the end of the slide and approach me. I was looking embarrassedly at the ground when I saw his black and blue Sketchers come into view. Slowly, I looked up at the boy, the temperature of my face rising significantly, and met his gaze.

I was surprised, but somewhat pleased to find that the boy's face bore a friendly smile. He had blue eyes with long lashes, and light brown eyebrows that matched his unkempt, longish hair. He wore a brown, zip-up hooded sweatshirt that seemed to fit him perfectly, in contrast with my adult-size shirt and baggy windbreaker. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and tipped his head to the side.

"Hi," he said. "Wanna play tag?"

My mouth fell open a little. This was my first interaction with anybody relatively close to my age, and already I was being invited to play with someone. It was a big deal. A wide grin spread on my face, the rosiness in my cheeks fading as I nodded vigorously.

Just then, the girl he'd been playing with ran up behind him and tapped him on the back. "_Tag!_" she cried triumphantly. "You're it!"

With that, the game resumed – and I became a part of it.

It took a few rounds about the playground for the girl to notice that there was a new participant in the game, but she didn't object to my presence. Rather, she was the first to make me "it," tapping my shoulder just as I turned a corner. She laughed and dashed away, with me right on her heels in pursuit. She got away from me by climbing up the equipment, but I saw the boy had just landed at the bottom of a slide. Running up alongside him, I hit him lightly on his arm.

"Tag!" It was the first word I said to either of the other kids, and it came out as more of a declaration than anything else. I grinned at him for a moment, and only just saw him return the smile before I turned on my heel, charging off around the play set.

The three of us chased each other for about two hours straight, but it seemed so much shorter than that. I hadn't really run around before, and to me, the activity was thoroughly exhilarating. On top of that, it turned out that for a scrawny 4-year-old, I was pretty fast.

We paused for a break on a second-story playground platform to catch our breath. Leaning our heads against the cool metal supports, we sat in a triangle. We didn't talk, save for a few giggles – just panted and grinned at each other. Exhaling contentedly, I closed my eyes temporarily. It seemed I had run so fast, all of my worries had flown out of my head and into the autumn breeze. And for all I cared at this moment, they were better off riding the winds than rattling around in my skull.

Just as I opened my eyes again, I heard one of the women calling from down below: "Sweetie, it's time to go now!"

The girl gave a parting glance at both me and the boy, rising to her feet. She brushed off her fleecy purple sweater and exhaled, tired but happy. "Bye," she said, giving a little wave with one hand as she climbed down a metal ladder to join her mother on the ground.

The boy and I waved back at her, echoing her farewell. "Bye!"

I watched the girl walk over to her mother and take her hand as the woman stood from her seat on the bench. She bade what had to be the boy's mother farewell, and went to a nearby compact car with her daughter. Soon, I could hear gravel crackling underneath the tires of the car as it turned from its rough parking space onto the smooth road, and disappeared past the multitude of trees near the corner.

So now, only the boy and I remained on the rubbery platform, leaning against the pillars of the play set, sitting directly across from each other. Our legs lay straight out in front of us, our shoes not far from touching one another's. We still didn't talk. All that existed between us for what seemed like several minutes, was silence and a mutual stare.

After a little while, I began to feel a little self-conscious. My face grew warm, and I ducked my head as I had earlier, rocking my feet from side to side on their heels. Across from me, I heard the boy chuckle under his breath, and when I looked up again I saw that he was rocking his feet too, perfectly in sync with mine. I giggled too, rocking my feet a little farther to the sides. He mimicked me, his black and blue Sketchers mirroring my Chuck Taylors. We grinned at each other foolishly, and the foot-rocking continued until I noticed the sun was beginning to set.

I looked towards the sunset, admiring the vibrant hues playing through the sky, dyeing the edges of fluffy white clouds that drifted lazily past. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and it was the first sunset I'd truly seen in my life. I smiled at the sun's artwork, and turned to look back at the boy, gasping ever so lightly as I did so.

He was facing the sunset, gazing at the display. What he didn't know was that in that single moment, his face was as beautiful as any masterpiece. The golden light of the lowering sun highlighted the side of his fair face, shining pleasantly on his light brown hair. But the most striking aspect of his appearance was his eyes. The light seemed to seep into them and light up his blue irises – it looked like they were glowing. They were marvelous, and my mouth hung slightly ajar in wonder.

It took me a moment to realize that the boy was looking back at me now. He met my gaze without objection, merely staring straight back at me. A faint smile played on his mouth; I blushed in spite of myself, but I returned the smile gladly, which only made his widen.

And then his mother called him.

"Come on, kiddo. It's time to go."

The boy sighed. I couldn't tell if it was out of tiredness, or reluctance to leave. He looked down at his mother and nodded, looking like he was about to get to his feet – but he didn't. He turned to me again, a questioning expression on his face.

"Where's _your _mom?" he asked.

"I – ah…" I stammered a little bit. After seeing this boy in such a state of beauty, I felt suddenly shy. Despite this, I looked at him, showing my palms as though to prove my honesty. "I don't… have a mom. Or a dad."

The boy looked puzzled. "You don't?"

I shook my head, and he scratched his. "Why not?" he asked.

"They…" I fell silent. I hadn't yet had to specify that my parents were dead. The seriousness of what I was about to say became a little more apparent in those few seconds. "They…died."

The boy's expression went through a series of changes – from confused, to surprised, to concerned. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking down for a moment. Soon after, though, he lifted his head again. "But then…who do you live with?"

"My uncle," I replied, but I quickly added, "or – no, I _used _to live with my uncle. I – I ran away."

"Why?"

"My uncle is… bad." It was the one word I knew could sum up his character easily.

"Oh." The boy looked down again. Concern was etched onto his face, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but his mother cut him off, calling him again.

"Honey? Are you coming?"

"Yes, Mom!" he yelled down. Turning to me, he gave me a sympathetic look, then stood, climbing down the metal ladder to join his mother. Impulsively, I decided to escort him, descending the ladder after he'd already landed and gone over to his mom's place at the bench.

Cautiously, I walked up to stand a little ways behind the boy, his mother just rising to her feet as I approached. Seeing me, she looked at her son, asking with a smile, "Did you make a new friend?"

He nodded, and that response on its own was enough to make my heart flutter for a few seconds. I was somebody's friend. I had a friend… _Wow…_

"…doesn't have a mom or a dad."

I snapped back into reality, acknowledging that the boy had just described part of my situation to his mother. This, too, came as a humbling surprise – seeing somebody show concern for me was something I'd never experienced, outside of being given the cookie and mini-flashlight earlier that day. But now, the boy's mother was looking at me questioningly.

"You don't have parents, sweetheart?" she asked me. Her face was lovely and fair, her eyes just as blue as her son's, and she had wonderfully blonde, straight hair that reached her shoulders; and now, this second lovely face was also giving me a look of deep concern.

I shook my head. In response to her tilting her head to the side in puzzlement, I said, "My parents are dead."

At this, the woman looked very sympathetic, and I felt so grateful to her just for talking to me like this. She stepped forward, bending at the waist, reaching out a perfectly manicured hand to touch me gently on the shoulder. "Oh, my dear, I'm sorry," she said, her voice quiet.

I offered a small smile in return, as though to show that I was alright.

The woman stood up again, adjusting a purse hanging from her shoulder. "Who do you live with, then?" she asked kindly.

This time, the boy answered for me. "She doesn't live with anyone," he said boldly.

"What?" The woman scanned her son's face in confusion, but he only nodded serenely, looking towards me. Her gaze followed his, and she said, "You don't live with anyone?"

"Well, not anymore," I replied, shaking my head. "I used to live with my uncle. But I ran away today."

The boy's mother raised her eyebrows. "Well, that's very brave of you, I must say," she remarked. "But you have to stay someplace. I'd think your uncle's house would be better than nothing!"

I shook my head again, this time with more emphasis. "No," I insisted. "I can't live there. My uncle is bad. I can't live there."

The woman took on a reasoning tone. "Sweetheart, believe me. It would be much better for you to go back to your uncle's house now instead of running around on your own. It isn't safe to be alone out here."

"But it isn't safe at my uncle's house," I protested. "He's bad. He doesn't care about me." Looking back, I know that if I'd known how to express that he was a drunk, this woman might have understood my position a little better.

But she didn't. "Oh," she said with a sigh and a smile, "I'm sure your uncle cares about you more than you know. Maybe you should just give him another chance. He's probably worried about you, being off on your own like this. You should probably get back home right away, dear."

"No, he's – no…!" I was running out of words.

Meanwhile, the boy's mother was telling him they needed to get going. "Mom," he said, "can't we help her?"

Help me? _Help me? _That was music to my ears. Hope lit up my face.

"Honey…" She made a regretful look at her son. "The most I can do is drive her back to her uncle's house."

"But she can't go back if her uncle is bad," the boy cried indignantly. "She shouldn't go back there!"

My heart was swelling with gratitude, but the boy's mother dismissed his protest. "Do you know how to reach your uncle's home from here?" she asked me.

"I – I think so," I stammered. "B-but I'm _not _going back! I can't – I can't–!"

"Then I'm sorry," the boy's mother said. "I can't take you with me."

"_Why not?!_" her son yelled, his face rosy with indignation. His concern for me was flattering, but it was all for naught, so it seemed. The hope that had brightened my eyes only moments before, was fading fast. My eyes brimmed with tears, and this time, I couldn't prevent them from trickling down my cheeks.

"She's run away of her own initiative," the woman said, her face solemn. "I'm not going to honor that decision. She needs to go back to her uncle's house. Staying with us would do her no good."

"But she'd be safer with us, Mom," the boy insisted. "She wouldn't be safe with her uncle. We could _help _her—"

"Son, it won't help her if we reward a bad choice," she said resolutely. "I'm not going to take her in. I'm sorry, but I can't."

My head hung, weighted down by crushed hopes, dripping bitter tears. I heard the boy continue to protest his mother's choice, even as she took his hand, firmly guiding him to their minivan. Then, over his mother's attempts to quiet him, I heard him yell, "_I'm sorry! I'm sorry…!_"

Even in my sorrow I was impacted immensely. Someone cared about me… and it felt wonderful. Even if their ideas to help me didn't work. I smiled through my tears, shaking my tangled hair from my face as I lifted my head to watch the boy and his mother leave.

By now, they had boarded their car, and it was backing out of its place in the gravel to drive out of the park. Through the window of the backseat, I could see the boy gazing at me sorrowfully, his hands pressed against the window – much like mine had been against the windows of so many stores that day. He was mouthing, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over again. I offered him a sad smile, and waved feebly at him. He waved back, his face still etched with resentfulness; and just after he did so, the minivan moved forward, turning past the trees.

Of course, even if it hadn't disappeared from my line of sight, I still wouldn't have been able to see it anymore. My vision was blurred as I released anger, sadness, and confusion in a cascade of tears. I let myself wail; no one was there to hear me anyway, and it wasn't as though anyone would care at this point. I fell to my knees in the mulch, screaming at the ground, moistening the earthy wood chips with my tears. I cried for the carelessness of my uncle, sobbed for the refusal of the boy's mother, selfishly wept for my helpless, hopeless situation.

Eventually, my wave of wails subsided, but tears continued to flow as I climbed pitifully onto the playset, curling up on my side at the bottom of a short plastic slide. I pulled my windbreaker up around my face, and I was able to pull up my legs to fit them inside the baggy garment. Lying on the slide in fetal position, I felt my stomach rumble unpleasantly. I was hungry, and tired, and now I was reasonably dirty too… but I had nothing I could do about it.

I felt – no, I _was_… utterly pathetic.


	3. Chapter 2 - Encounter

_**2 - Encounter**_

**T**ears were still trickling from the corners of my eyes as the lids became heavy. Gradually, my weary body gave in to sleep, but turmoil didn't cease to possess my mind. In my dreams, the lovely boy was smiling cheerfully at me. He was running from me – I was chasing him… I couldn't identify where we were, but I could tell it was a game of tag again. We were laughing and teasing and taunting… and it was childish bliss. Then, quite suddenly, we both stopped running. The boy was still grinning at me, but we were standing still, across from each other. He opened his mouth to say something, when a clawed hand belonging to something unseen reached across his face from behind, preventing his speech… He tried to pull it from his face, but another hand grabbed him on the side, pulling him backwards, away from me… He screamed, but it was drowned out by a frightening cackle, and then the face of the hands' owner came into view –

It was a vampire, its jaws wide in malevolent laughter, vicious fangs protruding from its gums. Its claws sank into the beautiful boy, and as I watched, my hand outstretched in protest, his figure completely dissolved, leaving nothing between me and the hideous creature… It advanced towards me, still cackling, and I noticed that this vampire had blonde hair that reached its shoulders…

My eyes widened in terror and I screamed as the giant claws reached for me, now, ready to shred me up… A number of other malicious creatures was appearing out of nowhere, creeping around the vampire… A werewolf, scrawny and rabid… A witch with a gnarled face and rotting teeth… A ghost with long white tendrils stretching towards me… A zombie, drooling tar, its wicked eyes fixed upon me, wide with hunger… I kept screaming, and the vampire's claws seemed to grow larger and larger, looming towards me, about to pierce right through me –

"_AAHHHHHH!_"

I opened my mouth and shrieked with fear, my eyes flying open, my legs straightening out of my windbreaker. My breath came in pants and I scanned the area around me nervously, the image of that evil vampire still playing in my mind –

I shook my head violently, wishing to rid myself of the idea. But it was no use. I felt haunted, as though all of those creatures I had dreamed of were lurking in the darkness that had now surrounded me, creeping up on me…

I whirled around, looking behind me. But there was nothing to see except the rest of the plastic slide I'd been sleeping on, and past that, an expanse of darkness. Turning back to face in front of me, I tried to slow my breathing – but I couldn't. Not only was I shaky and frightened, but I was also chilled by the coolness of the night air, and it was making my whole body shiver. Huddling in my windbreaker, I could see the pale clouds that were my breath, puffing out and then dissolving moments later.

The monsters from my dreams continued to infect my thoughts, and I shook my head repeatedly – but there was no getting rid of the ghoulish specters that haunted my mind. I tucked my quivering hands into the pockets of my dirty jeans, and was a little surprised to feel a plastic solid in my right pocket. It was the tiny flashlight that the man in the toy store had given me. Feeling grateful towards the man, I extracted it from my pocket, and found the little switch in the dark. A small but bright beam of light shone from the opposite end, illuminating the mulch leading up to the edge of the playground's boundary. The light on its own was a welcome sight, and provided at least a little comfort in the chilly eeriness of the dark.

Though the light brightened my spirits ever so slightly in addition to the area in front of me, I decided I'd better turn it off, just in case. I didn't know how long the little batteries inside it could hold out, and there was no sense in wasting it all simply staring ahead of myself. Tucking it back into my pocket, I hugged myself to keep warm, and sat staring into the nothingness that was the park at night.

Minutes passed, but they felt more like hours. My thoughts were still polluted by visions of the beasts I'd had dreams about, and I shuddered frequently. I became overly sensitive to the slightest notions of danger around me. The unsettling chill of a breeze. The sound of chains clinking on a nearby swingset. The tricks my eyes played on me in the dark…

It was torture, and it was driving me mad. I murmured under my breath in spite of myself, but there wasn't much I could say to try and calm myself down. All that I was able to repeat there in the dark was, "Monsters aren't real… They aren't real… They aren't real…"

But of course, I couldn't persuade myself when my voice itself was quaking. Helplessly, I buried my head in my knees, clenching my hair with my hands. Why me? I wondered, beginning to question whether everyone I'd met that day had been right, whether I should have gone back to my uncle's house even though he was a terrible man…

No. I couldn't turn back now, not even in my thoughts, I decided. With some difficulty, I determined that I'd rather be out here, alone in the dark, than back in my uncle's house. Even though it was just a little warmer there. Even though my only companion would be a complete idiot of a grown man…

I shook my head again. _No! _I was never going to believe that my uncle's house was the better place for me. I couldn't. I wouldn't. Ever.

Making this somewhat pointless decision didn't do anything to keep me from psyching out about anything that so much as indicated a sign of life around me. I sat on the edge of the slide, trembling with cold and anxiety, tense –

_Snap._

It was merely the sound of a twig breaking, but it was enough to scare me onto my feet, to propel me forward… straight into the woods at the edge of the park.

I regretted the action as soon as my brain caught up to my scrawny legs. The floor of the forest was covered in a tangle of roots and multiple layers of fallen leaves. My right hand scrabbled around my hip as I tripped around the foliage, searching underneath my baggy upper garments for my jeans pocket. At last it found the little plastic flashlight, and immediately I yanked it out and turned it on.

The resulting plume of light illuminated my surroundings: to state the obvious – trees. Everywhere. Tall and thin, short and wide, spotted with moss or completely coated – they were _everywhere_. In front of me. Behind me. To the right, to the left, roots meshing beneath me, branches sprawling above me… EVERYWHERE. I had no idea how I'd gotten this deep into the woods in such a short amount of time; the speed I'd discovered I possessed just that afternoon, must have carried me farther than I thought, even with the masses of roots to trip me up.

Staring around me, shining the flashlight on the infinite woods, I felt the color draining from my face, and it was as though a breath of air could have knocked me over. I wanted to close my eyes, open them back up, and see that this was just another crazy dream, that I was still lying on the plastic slide with my legs tucked up inside my windbreaker.

But no matter how many times I blinked – hard – I was still a little girl in a gigantic forest, with not even an inkling of an idea as to where I was.

I found myself shaking my head vigorously for the umpteenth time that night. "There has… to be… a way," I muttered to myself, and I forced my right leg to take a single step forward, lifting the foot mechanically and setting it down just beyond a knot of large roots.

One small step towards…somewhere, I decided. Somewhere that wasn't packed with trees.

As I began moving a little more steadily through the forest, I settled on moving straight forward – which was, of course, impossible for me. Every second, I found myself maneuvering around clusters of enormous trees, swerving out of my intended path; and though I thought I returned myself to my original path, I never actually did. (Of course I didn't!) The darkness enveloping me, and the shadows my flashlight caused when it shone on the trees, did nothing to improve my sense of direction.

It took about fifteen minutes for me to decide that I was, officially, lost. Nonetheless, I kept moving, shining my tiny plastic flashlight in front of me, stumbling over the foliage. I may not have known where I was going, but I did know that there was no way I was going to stay in these woods forever…

The darkness was beginning to close in on me – or, rather, my flashlight battery was depleting. I couldn't tell which was true, and I'm not sure it would have mattered. Either way, it was getting harder for me to see where I was going, and that didn't help with my attempts at avoiding tripping over roots.

I was frustrated and frightened all at once as I continued my struggle through the woods. My steps were mechanical and jerky, and sometimes I muttered nonsense words as though to vent my frustration. My legs were already bruising underneath my jeans from repeated collisions with the ground, and my hands were nearly numb from the combination of cold air and scrapes from tree bark. Altogether, I simply felt awful, and it didn't improve matters when I fell hard over a thick fallen bough.

I tried to step over it, but my depth perception failed in the dimming light of my flashlight, and I caught the bough on the front of my ankle; in turn, my ankle became the fulcrum of my body as I spun forward, falling forward over the obstacle and landing hard on my chest, with my shins suspended against the branch. I gasped in pain, bringing my legs down from the bough and trying to stand up. But this time, the pain was more significant than after my other blunders, and I fell back to the forest floor. My chest ached, and I could feel the soreness of individual bruises on my legs. I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing the pain would ebb away, and detecting a menacing ringing in my ears.

After a little while I was able to get back on my feet and start moving again, but it wasn't without difficulty. The soreness of my body was a constant reminder of my dismal situation, and the ringing in my ears was anything but fading. If anything, it was getting louder, filling my head and making it feel heavy. And, I noticed, it wasn't like the normal "ringing" that I'd ever experienced before. It was a fuzzy kind of sound, but high-pitched, almost like some sort of screaming static.

It became more and more noticeable, the sound resonating in my head. As I pressed on through the woods, that peculiar, unsettling sound became the only thing I was really thinking about. I didn't understand. I wasn't particularly dizzy, a typical cause for ringing ears – if anything, the ringing itself was making me a little dizzy. In fact, it was very nearly becoming painful to endure, as its volume increased, screaming on inside my skull. Every now and then, I would pause my journey and press my hands to my head as though to squeeze the noise out of it. Of course, it didn't do any good, and the eerie ambiance continued to echo through my head as I went along.

I was becoming conscious of the feeling I wasn't alone in the woods. At first, the feeling made me perk up a little, and my pace sped up – for a short amount of time, that is. Eventually, I reasoned that no normal human being would want to be in a forest like this so late at night. I didn't want to be there, I thought, so why would someone else want to be here, of all places? My thoughts began to turn unstable, darting fearfully from one subject to another: the increasing static scream in my ears, the surrounding darkness, the creepy way in which the trees' branches loomed over my head… Perhaps one of them would trap me, like my uncle said…

Becoming jumpy and tense, I felt my body start to twitch here and there, and my hands were shaking uncontrollably, causing my fading flashlight beam to bob rapidly up and down. Every moment, I felt the need to whirl around and point the light in another direction. I checked over my shoulders and searched the branches above me, expecting some sort of hideous beast to leap from the heights to devour me at any second.

This case of paranoia certainly didn't improve my body coordination. I was so busy checking everywhere except in front of me, that I began tripping over nearly everything my feet came into contact with. I slipped on fallen leaves, stubbed my toes on gnarled roots, got my hair tangled in dangling broken branches. And all the while, the weird noise in my ears became more and more ominous, until—

"Ah…"

The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end, and it was all too noticeable for me. A tingling, eerie feeling crawled across my back, and I could feel sweat beading all over my body. On top of all of that, the noise had reached a climax – it had evolved into a shrieking, screeching sound, almost like loud car brakes combined with a resounding hiss.

Unable to stand the sound any longer, I brought my hands to my ears, bringing the flashlight to the side of my face. With the beam of light pointing off somewhere in the air, I couldn't see a thing in front of me, and I tumbled over multiple roots, moaning in discomfort. Somehow I managed to rise to my feet, but upon taking one more step forward, I promptly crashed over yet another gnarled root. The impact jolted my skinny body, loosening my grip on the tiny flashlight and sending it tumbling to the ground. With a short cry of panic, I hurriedly rustled my hands through the fallen leaves on the ground in an effort to retrieve the miniscule glowing object.

My hands were trembling, scrabbling, and it seemed to take far too long for me to finally grip the plastic flashlight in my right hand – but I had it, and that's what mattered. With my ears still ringing, I give a brief exclamation of triumph, and shined the light towards my front once again.

The second after I did that, I regretted it.

All the color drained from my face, from my entire body, as I stared, petrified, at the figure in front of me. My panicky little eyes darted around its figure, identifying broad shoulders, obscenely long arms, writhing black growths coming off of its back—

And a pale, eerily shadowed shape floating atop it all… A head, with _no face_.

I screamed, my voice cracking as I forced it as loud as I could for no legitimate reason, just screaming out of pure terror. My fist clenched around my flashlight, still shining on the form in front of me as it came ever closer, the white orb that was its face leaning in towards mine – it was going to eat me, it had no mouth but it was going to eat me – and the noise in my ears was even higher than before – and now I was falling backwards, my voice shrill with alarm as I tumbled over a root, and just kept falling… and falling… and falling, into blackness that concealed everything except that white, featureless face of none other than the Slender Man…


	4. Chapter 3 - A Complete 180

_**3 - A Complete 180**_

**W**hen I opened my eyes, it took some time for me to recall where I was. It was pitch black, and at first I couldn't tell if my eyes _were _open. Fallen leaves were all around me, feeling scratchy against my hands and neck. Drowsily, I blinked in the darkness. What was I doing lying in the leaves?

It all came back to me in a flash: screaming static, hindering roots and branches… and the figure with long arms, tentacles, and no face.

With a short cry, I sat bolt upright in the leaves, whipping my head around frantically, checking to see if the faceless being was still there. I didn't see anything, but then again it was so dark. I forced myself to take a deep breath and was about to release it when—

_You shouldn't be here, child._

It was a deep voice, resounding, intimidating, and it sent shivers up my spine. The eeriest thing about it was that the voice was less in my ears and more in my head. Just like the static shrieks that had rattled around in my skull earlier.

My hair whirled, a few leaves falling out of it as I searched for the voice's owner, beginning to hyperventilate. I wanted to yell out of pure terror, but my vocal chords seemed to be stuck. My throat felt slightly sore from the scream I'd let out just before my blackout.

Then I saw _him_ again.

The darkness shrouded the majority of his figure, but I saw pretty clearly the gaunt orb of his face, floating like some unwelcome moon among the sprawling branches. His long, pale neck stretched out of a stiff white collar, over a black suit coat and tie. His cheekbones were lined with shadow, and I could see the faintest lines where his eye sockets might have been.

It just wasn't right. It wasn't human, it wasn't normal. It was wrong—_wrong—_

I opened my mouth to scream again, but all that came out was a hoarse, rasping sound, similar to what I imagine a fish out of water would sound like. It ended in a frightened little sigh as I scuffled backwards, bumping into a knobby tree behind me. My eyes, opened as wide as they could possibly be, stared in terror at the being in front of me, which was _moving closer._ I could see his neck now, the chalk-white skin appearing gray in the darkness, and I curled into a tight fetal position, whimpering when the voice entered my head again.

_Why are you here?_

Even in my terror, I wondered why this man – the Slender Man – was asking me questions. What did it matter? Why didn't he just rip my legs off and eat me, right then and there, like my uncle said he would?

Right then, I froze. Even my trembling ceased. My _uncle_? Since when did I believe anything _he _said? The sudden realization granted me a fleeting moment of calm, as I very nearly laughed at the idea of listening to my uncle. Not thinking, I looked up from my knees to see the Slender Man's face directly in front of mine.

This time, the scream actually came out, loud and clear. As I pressed myself back against the tree trunk, I swear I saw the Slender Man retreat a little himself.

"Y-you're… you're the _S-slender Man!_" I cried, shivering uncontrollably.

_Yes… I am. _

It was an affirmation of my statement, without a significant tone of voice; it sounded as though he'd heard this all too many times before, and he dismissed the subject as soon as answered me. _Child, _the Slender Man's voice echoed, _why are you here?_

I had begun to shudder again, but now I had a feeling of defiant bravery. There was no way I was going to give in to anything my uncle ever told me, I thought, and now was no exception. Even if this looming figure was hungry for my flesh, I was _not _going to chicken out! I took a great, shaking breath, and said boldly, "Mr. Slender Man, if you're going to eat me, why does it matter?"

Looking back, I think that if the Slender Man had eyelids, he would have blinked after that question. There was a thick silence.

_Eat you?_ he said finally, his deep tone going flat.

"My uncle said you'd rip m-my legs off and eat me," I said, unable to prevent the quiver in my voice.

Another silence followed. Well, almost silent. My heart was thumping crazily in my little chest, making me feel almost nauseous, and I could hear it all too easily. Wouldn't have been surprised if the man with no face heard it too… even though he didn't have ears.

Then the Slender Man responded with another question for me. _Do you believe him?_

You'd think I would have given it a little more thought, but the notion of believing anything my uncle told me was simply outrageous. "No," I said sharply.

_Then… _The white face came closer again, the long neck attached to it arching towards me. My eyesight was adjusting, and I could make out faint glimmers of starlight on the tall man's tentacles, which sprouted from his back, curling and uncurling in the chill night air. _Perhaps you will answer my first question: Why are you here?_

I squirmed. His face was so close to mine, so close… but could I really call it a _face? _He had nothing – no eyes, no nose, mouth, ears, hair… nothing except faintly shadowed cheekbones. Regardless, I still wasn't quite comfortable with answering his question. I'd already answered him once, yet I simply didn't feel like replying this time. So I shot another query back at him: "Why are _you _here?"

He didn't move, save for the six black tendrils coming off of his back that seemed to have minds of their own and were twirling tranquilly. _You refuse to answer me?_

To prove his guess right, I remained silent.

A strange, reverberating sound filled my head, almost like a much milder version of the sound a plane makes when it flies overhead. I assumed that this was the Slender Man's rendition of a sigh. He ducked his pale head slowly, the long neck bending even lower, and I realized that he was sitting down in front of an enormous oak tree across from me. His long arms folded with the elbows resting against his knees, and for the first time I got a look at his hands. They were so long and pale, the thin fingers just visible in the shadow of his upper arms. And for some reason, despite the persistent tingle of fear that was running over my body, those hands fascinated me. For belonging to a tall, dark figure, they seemed a direct contrast, so pale, almost delicate in their length and thinness. I was so caught up in gawking at them that at first, I didn't realize the Slender Man was looking at me – or at the very least, he was facing me. Upon noticing this, I gave tiny squeak of surprise, pulling my knees closer to my chest in spite of myself.

Then it hit me. The Slender Man's posture. He didn't look threatening at all. He looked completely casual, maybe tired, even, with the way his arms lay slack against his legs. But overall, the message I received from the way he sat was that he was about to tell me something big, something interesting – like he was about to read to me from a storybook.

Of course, I'd never been read to in my life, let alone talked to, really. But I had seen pictures of people reading stories to little kids in the newspapers I collected at my uncle's house. The similarity between their postures and the Slender Man's was striking.

Then the deep voice rang in my head, and the most unforgettable "storytime" session began.

_Your uncle's story is nothing new, _said the Slender Man. _There are many stories about me, and for the most part, they are false. Nothing in them, perhaps aside from what I look like, is truth. Most humans believe that my only wish is to hurt them, to kill them – but they are wrong. I am not a murderer. I have nothing against the people of this world. However, there are creatures in these very woods that _do _have the worst in mind for humanity. They are called the Kuiirunoxi._

"Koo-ee…?" I tried to repeat.

_Kuiirunoxi, _the Slender Man repeated. There was a surprising amount of patience in his voice, but I still couldn't help shuddering slightly at the sound.

"Kuiirunoxi," I pronounced slowly.

The white head gave a single, deep nod of affirmation. _Yes. Most of the time, I simply refer to them as Noxi. Unlike me, they have an obsessive taste for human blood. They are violent creatures. Their bodies are black, which makes them nearly invisible at night, especially in these woods. They are very tall, with fangs and clawed hands. Their eyes are red, and they have powers beyond what any human could ever imagine. They are… somewhat like what humans call vampires._

Here I gave a small gasp of surprise. Vampires? In real life? The Slender Man halted his explanation for a moment, noticing my reaction, and asked, _You know of vampires?_

"Yeah," I answered quietly, then was quick to add, "I know they aren't real though."

The Slender Man's head nodded at me again. _You are right, _he said. _Vampires do not exist. But Kuiirunoxi do. The things they do to humans are unbelievably grotesque, and I have come to think that people got the idea for vampires after seeing what a Kuirrunox could do to a human. Many have been seen by human eyes after being maimed by one of the monsters, but of course, no one has ever seen one of them in reality. They go around without any fear of the great fanged creatures, and even make stories about them – yet Noxi hunt for people every day._

He paused, and I furrowed my little brow. "So… so one of them was hunting for me?" I asked.

The Slender Man didn't answer right away, which made me a little nervous. _I do not know for sure,_ he said slowly, _but I also cannot say if you _haven't _been followed by a Nox before._

My imagination began generating images of immense black creatures following me around, jaws gaping, just waiting to devour me. A flashback of my nightmare earlier on sent shivers down my little body, and I shook my head to clear it of the image. Despite the disturbing thoughts and a slightly shaking voice, I dared to ask, "Was one hunting me tonight? Is… is that why _you're _here?"

_I do not believe that you were being hunted when I found you, _replied the Slender Man.

"But what are you here for?" I pressed. "You're not here to take me to them…are you?" My voice raised in anxiety.

_No, _he answered quickly, but the word stretched out, seeming to fill several moments on its own. _I do not deal lightly with the Kuiirunoxi. I am what you might call a defender of humanity._

"Defender of humanity," I echoed. The words didn't mean much to me, but the phrase had a ring of importance to it. I liked it.

The Slender Man realized I mustn't have known what the words really meant. _I… protect people from danger, _he rephrased. _I'm here to keep them from being hurt or killed by Kuiirunoxi. _Turning his head to the side as though looking through the trees, he added, _They make a habit of coming here from where they live._

"Where_ do_ they live?" I inquired curiously.

_They do not usually live around here, on Earth, _said the Slender Man._ They come from an alternate dimension… A place very far from this world. Whenever they become restless or begin to thirst for human blood, they make portals using their powers and come here, or to another location on Earth. Then they wreak havoc – they maim and devour humans. The things they do… _The white face looked towards the ground momentarily before turning back to me. _They are horrible, horrible beasts. And I am here to keep them from harming humans, to the very best of my ability._

I was beginning to put the pieces together now. "So," I began, staring wide-eyed at the long figure in front of me, "when I saw you… you were…"

_I was trying to protect you from danger, _he said, his deep voice turning slightly soft as it resounded inside my head. _You were moving closer to a location where Noxi frequently appear. I was standing guard near it, and when I detected your presence, I tried to ward you off, but you only kept coming closer._

"The static," I uttered, my brain whirling. "It got louder…"

_That is one of my meager abilities, _said the Slender Man. _I can cause humans to hear certain things, as a way of warning them without having to confront them directly. The noise that you heard is the one I often use to try and alert people of danger. That sound is usually enough to… _encourage _people in the opposite direction of where they are headed. I prefer not to let humans see me, because they are frightened by my appearance, as you were._

I wanted to protest, but my mind was still running at ninety miles an hour and I had to admit that the Slender Man was right.

_Because they are frightened, _he continued, _they automatically assume that I have the worst in mind for them. This, you now know, is dreadfully wrong, but I cannot prevent them from thinking what they do. Their thoughts lead to the violent stories you have heard about me. I can honestly tell you that none of them are true._

Silence reigned in the forest, save for a small breeze that whistled softly through the tree branches, rustling the fallen leaves around me and the Slender Man. But inside my head it was as though a tornado had just passed through – a tornado of entirely new ideas, that is. I'd just found out about freakish beasts that lived in these very woods that did awful things to human beings. Oddly enough, I wasn't half as surprised about that as I was to find out that the Slender Man was "pro-life," so to speak. I stared blankly at the ground. So much had been poured into my young mind, and I discovered that it was working at such speed that my mouth could barely function. My vocal chords could, though, and I uttered a single, quiet "ahh," as though to point out that I had just learned a whole lot of things.

A whole lot of things that I sure as heck was _not _going to learn in school one day.

The Slender Man broke the silence. _Now, _he said, _I believe I've answered your questions. Please answer mine: Why are you here, child?_

Still staring at the leaves and roots on the forest floor, I answered slowly, "I'm lost."

There was a pause. Then, _But how did you get here?_

I looked up at the Slender Man. It felt no less than absurd for me to be sitting across from the great figure so casually, let alone actually talking to him like any other person. I could still feel adrenaline coursing through me, but I realized as I looked the Slender Man in the face, that I didn't mind answering him. He'd already told me he wasn't the bad guy. And if he really was the bad guy, I'd probably have been dismembered and devoured by now.

But I wasn't. That was the awesome thing about my whole situation. It seemed that everything about where I was and what I was doing, was defying human thought capacity. I was sitting near a rumored murderer, and yet I wasn't dead. I was in the woods in the middle of the night, and yet I wasn't in danger, unless you considered the hindering tree roots as being hazardous. (To a certain extent – in the dark, at the very least – they were.) And to top it all off, I was alone, away from the watchful eyes of any adult _or _child – and apart from a few bumps and bruises, I was perfectly fine_._ A weird little smile formed on my face at the thought. I was okay. As for the Slender Man… he was okay, too.

_Child?_

I jumped a little at his voice. Oh, right, I remembered, he asked me how I got here. "I… ran away from my uncle's house," I said, my voice quiet. If humans had all given me the same reaction before, I wondered, how would the Slender Man react to my predicament?

_You ran away? _he repeated. His voice didn't show surprise, and of course his face couldn't express much without any features on it, but I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Yes," I said with a nod.

_Why?_

"Because my uncle is… bad," I finished, wishing I knew a bigger, more intimidating-sounding word to describe my drunk relative. (Of course, if I'd have actually known the word "drunk," things would have been much simpler for me, don't you think?)

_Well, _responded the Slender Man, _it isn't exactly good for you to be in the woods so late at night, either. Especially these woods, now that you know about Noxi._

"But…"

The Slender Man's head tilted slightly to the side.

"But," I began again, "it's better than being at my uncle's place."

_Why is that?_

"He's just… bad," I said, at a loss for better words yet again. "He does mean things to me, and he doesn't take care of me. He doesn't… he doesn't like me. Or love me. Or anything."

The weird sighing sound came into my head again. _Child,_ he said, almost gently, _as much as I honor your bravery, I should probably take you back to his house. It's dangerous out here. You know that now._

"B-but it's dangerous at my uncle's house too!" I stammered, uninvited tears crawling into my eyes once again. "I can't go back there, I can't!"

My sentence ended in a small choking noise as I tried to keep from crying, expecting the same stupid reaction from the Slender Man as I had received from so many humans during the day. But, then again, I'd already been surprised in a number of ways tonight, and there was no reason for me not to expect any more surprises.

Such as the one the Slender Man gave me upon saying, _Then… where will you go?_

Where will I _go? _I thought. He hadn't asked where my uncle lived. He hadn't told me I absolutely needed to go back. He hadn't protested my protests. He was asking me where I would go now.

I had been debating for a long time as to whether I should pinch myself to see if this was all a dream, if I was still conked out on the forest floor. But now, I actually did pinch myself discreetly, on my right leg. I felt it, but in any case, I was too awake to think everything was a vision at that point. I was amazed that the Slender Man, of all people – or beings, or whatever – would ask me where I was going, instead of ordering me to go back to where I came from. The Slender Man, showing concern.

Imagine that.

In spite of the strange thrill his inquiry gave me, I had no definite answer for him. "I don't know," I admitted, ducking my head sheepishly.

Another silence, during which the Slender Man leaned forward, standing up on his long, long legs. I remained seated against my tree trunk, my face flushed. I needed an answer to his question, but I didn't have one. Once again an overflow of unwelcome questions filled my head, and I nearly wanted to pass out again, out of mere helplessness.

And then the Slender Man spoke again.

_As I told you, I usually don't let people see me like this, _he said. _But you have seen me now, and it seems to me you… aren't afraid of me…_

His sentence ended slowly, his tone moving slightly upwards as if he was asking a question. In response, I looked up at him, and after a second of consideration, I nodded. I really wasn't afraid of him anymore. Sure, my body was still in a bit of a frenzy after the shock I'd received, but I wasn't afraid.

_Evidently, you have nowhere to go, _he went on, _and from the way you've talked about your uncle, I am fairly certain that you would not be safe with him. And as I have told you, it is my intention to keep humans safe, regardless of the cost…_

Even at the age of four, I was starting to notice that the Slender Man was talking in a run-on fashion. Was he nervous about something? I wondered. What has he got to be nervous about?

_I don't usually go to such extremes,_ he said with a sense of finality, _but if you have nowhere else to go, I can take you in to stay with me… if you would like._

I don't know how much time passed between when the Slender Man asked me the question and when I answered it. All I can tell you is that it felt like a really, really long time, during which I couldn't even attempt to process how unbelievable my situation was. I'd woken up from a faint to promptly begin a conversation with the Slender Man – repeat, _the Slender Man_, as in the super-tall guy with no face – about bloodthirsty beasts from an alternate dimension called Kuiirunoxi. I'd found out that the Slender Man was the good guy, defender of humans in the face of said bloodthirsty beasts. I'd discovered that while I was stumbling around the woods, I'd been rapidly approaching a frequent teleportation spot for the things, and that the Slender Man had saved my life. And just now – or forever ago, so it seemed – I'd been asked, _by the Slender Man, _if I'd like to stay with him.

I don't think there's an adjective accurate enough to sum up my surprise. Except, perhaps, for the word "wow," which I uttered aloud after what felt like that eternity of silence.

"Wow…"

It came out almost as merely a breath. The shock and thrill that seemed to fill my whole body was pressuring my vocal chords into silence.

_I understand it must seem very strange for me to offer something like this, _the Slender Man put in. Interestingly enough, he sounded like he was afraid he would scare me away.

I wasn't afraid of him, I was sure of that now - but I was hesitant nonetheless. Stay with the Slender Man? Say_ what?_ I mean, he _was _the Slender Man… It was crazy enough knowing I'd met the real guy, and learning everything I had that night. But staying with him? Living with him? …Permanently, too, from the sound of it. Was I really prepared for something like that? Did a situation like this _require _preparation in the first place? What was I getting into?

Then I rewound. This previously freaky figure had revealed himself to be a very good person, if a little different in appearance. Okay, yeah, maybe a _lot _different. But even I could tell that he had the best in mind for everyone, including myself, and I doubted I'd come to harm if I was with him. He said he defended people regardless of what it took. After the conversation I'd had with him, I trusted that. People did have a tendency to create scary stories out of anything they didn't understand. (How did I know this? Well, funny what you can learn about the human race when you read the newspaper.)

_Pardon me if it's too sudden for you, _the Slender Man said, and when I shook myself out of the whirlwind of my thoughts I saw that he was looking off to the side, as though feeling awkward. _I can tell that you have had quite a bit of shock tonight. I have no doubt that a question like this might be… overkill._

I didn't really know what "overkill" meant (though it wasn't too hard to guess, either). But I just shook my head vigorously as I looked up at him, my eyes wide and bright even in the darkness.

"Please—yes… please, Mr. Slender Man," I croaked. "I want… to stay with you."

BEAST NAMES:

"DEVOUR":

• Irentsi(Basque)

• Fortaere (Danish)

• Verschlingen (German)

• Verslind (Afrikaans)

• Kuiiruyouni (Japanese) **KUIIRU**

• Devoro, Exedo, Exuro, Haurio, Degulo, Manducor (Latin)

** • Pozerac **_po-zher-ach_, Zrec _zuh-rech_ (Polish) Name

• Katavrochthizou (Greek)

• Sakmalin, Lumamon, Lamunin, Silain (Filipino)

• Kul tal (Armenian)

• Gelltis, Perlaj (Albanian)

• Prozdirati (prozhdirati – Bosnian)

• Tunshi (Chinese)

• Niella, Ahmia (Finnish)

• Nuot tu'o'i (Vietnamese)

• Magalamoy (Cebuano)

"BEAST":

• Shou (Chinese)

** • Halimaw**, Taong ganid (Filipino) Name

• Kurja, Nauta, Elukka (Finnish)

• Kemono (Japanese)

• Zvers (Latvian, LONG E)

• Dyret (Norwegian)

• Djur, Krak (Swedish)

• Mirukam (Tamil)

"DARKNESS":

• Kurai (dark)/kurayami (Japanese)

• Terr (Albanian)

• Mrak (Bosnian)

** • Foscor** (Catalan) Name

• Tama (Croatian)

** • Mallumo** (Esperanto) Name

• Dilim, Kadiliman (Filipino)

** • Myrkrio** (Icelandic) Name

• Nox (Latin) **NOXI (plural; singular, NOX)**

**THE END RESULT:**

**KUIIRUNOXI! ****(Ku-ee-ru-nox-eye, singular **_**Kuiirunox**_**.)**

**Referred to as "Noxi" for short.**


	5. Chapter 4 - Static Lullaby

**In response to the user named CLOWNFISH14, nope! There****'****s more! Enjoy! :) And there****'****s more on the way too. 3**

_**4 - Static Lullaby**_

I wondered how the Slender Man would react to me accepting his offer… let alone _if _he would react. His blank face didn't give anything away, in any case. A silence that filled me with eager anticipation and anxiety all at once surrounded us for a good ten seconds before the Slender Man spoke again.

_I… __I am glad that you accept my invitation, _he said, the deep voice going quieter than before, though it still reverberated within my head.

I just grinned and nodded at him in return. It was still crazy to be thinking that I just met someone – a _faceless _someone, for that matter… and yet I was going home with them. Home, with him – with the Slender Man! Somehow, though, the idea didn't intimidate me. Sure, it made me wonder what exactly was going to happen from here on out. But I wasn't afraid.

_Well, child__… _The Slender Man took a step towards me, leaning forward, and I saw that his long arm was stretching towards me. At its end, a wiry yet delicate white hand had its palm facing upwards, the thin fingers flexed. _Come with me, _said the Slender Man. _It__'__s far too late to be out here, and I would hate for Kuiirunoxi to turn up at this time._

Once again I found myself staring at the slender white hand. It was strangely… pretty, I thought, as I slowly reached out with my own small hand. Even with my fingers outstretched, my hand was only perhaps a fifth of the size of the Slender Man's, pressed against the very center of his palm. His fingers curled around it gently, and with a deep nod the Slender Man began walking forward through the forest, softly tugging me along with him.

But my feet remained firmly on the ground, save for a slight slip forward.

"Mr. Slender Man," I said. "I'm… um…"

He stopped, his blank face turning to me. _Yes?_ he asked, his patience still surprising to me.

"Uh…" What I was trying to verbalize was the fact that I had tripped so many times only a short while ago. I could feel individual spots of soreness on my shins where they were bruised, and though I was a very earnest little girl, I was, inevitably, tired. There was no doubt that if I tried to walk through these woods again, I would fall on my face – and I probably wouldn't get up.

_Perhaps walking isn__'__t so easy for you in here, _said the Slender Man, as though he had read my mind. I saw his head turn briefly to look over his shoulder, where his six, shiny black tentacles were waving slowly in various directions. I hadn't really paid attention to them before, which seemed ironic considering they were features that truly set the Slender Man apart from a human – if you hadn't already taken into account the blank face and colossal height. The growths seemed to have minds of their own, curling and rippling this way and that, like black whips in slow motion.

Weird, but cool, I decided.

Now the Slender Man was facing me. His hand was still enveloping mine, and I felt him tighten it ever so slightly as though to encourage me, saying, _If it isn__'__t too__… __strange for you, I can carry you on my back. There__'__s nothing to be afraid of, I assure you._

Offering up a small smile, I nodded. "Thank you," I said lightly, and the Slender Man gave another deep nod in response as his long legs bent at the knee in a low crouch.

_Come just a bit closer, _he instructed me. I obeyed, and watched in childish amazement as all six of his tentacles gradually reached out towards me. Two curled up underneath my arms and around my shoulders, while the other four came together beneath me to form a sort of bench. Slowly, I was brought up into the air, and then towards the Slender Man's back. As I placed my hands on the dark suit jacket he was wearing, the tendrils under my arms uncurled and wrapped loosely around my back.

A piggyback ride from the Slender Man… and I thought things couldn't have gotten any more extraordinary!

But they did – only seconds later.

_Stay close against me, _said the Slender Man. _I__'__m going to Transtep._

"Transtep?" I asked, clueless.

_Nothing to be afraid of. Trust me, and stay close._

I huddled against his back, my left cheek pressed to the strange, soft blackness of his clothing. The tendrils around me tightened ever so slightly, and I braced myself for whatever was about to happen.

After half a second, my hair suddenly blew sideways as the Slender Man took a single, broad step forward. A hollow-sounding noise, like a deep whistle, filled my ears for a moment that seemed to stretch over a full minute. Looking out to the right, I saw nothing but the deepest darkness imaginable. I could almost feel it surrounding me and the Slender Man, like moist, black velvet. All throughout the darkness were little orbs, like tiny, glowing clouds. Their colors were so light I could barely tell one from another, and they were drifting ever so gradually around, swirling lazily in midair. This place, though I had no idea where or what it really was, had a drowsy sort of warmth filling it. It was as though the state of Florida, in all its heated humidity, had been put in a black jar; and in that jar stood the Slender Man with me curled up against his back. It was extraordinary. My little jaw dropped in amazement –

And that was all I had time for before we were back in the "normal" world: cool air, occasional breeze, trees visible though not so packed together as before. The fallen leaves barely rustled beneath the Slender Man's feet as he stepped down firmly.

I was in a bit of a daze. The only word present in my mind was "whoa," though I was in such amazement that I didn't even say it.

The Slender Man crouched as his tentacles slowly worked their way around me, picking me up again and placing me gently on the leaf-covered ground. I gawked at the Slender Man momentarily as he stood up again, looking back at me all the while.

_Would you like me to explain what just happened?_

I nodded energetically.

_I just stepped through a portal to an alternate dimension, _he said. _I have the ability to see holes in time and space, and to travel through them. Just now, I stepped into an alternate dimension through one, and back into this dimension through another._

My face was blank, but all of this sounded really awesome, and I grinned childishly at his explanation.

_Sometimes, _he continued, _I can__'__t travel like this. Sometimes Kuiirunoxi travel through the same portals or dimensions, and I can__'__t pass through the same area without__… __running into one of them._

"Oh," I said.

The Slender Man gave a single deep nod. _Well, _he said. _Enough time-space talk. Shall we__… __go home?_

Home… And it wasn't my uncle's house.

Home.

Yes. I liked the sound of that. I nodded cheerfully, and the Slender Man reached his white hand down to me again. This time, I took hold of his finger and walked on beside him, roots and branches absent from my path.

Before long, I could see the dim outline of a house in the distance: two-story, yet small, and maybe a little shabby, but a house nonetheless, sitting tranquilly in the middle of a clearing in the woods. Fallen leaves covered the ground, some finding their way onto wooden stairs that led to the little front porch. The windows had maroon shutters which matched a short brick chimney on the roof. The exterior of the house itself was a yellowing white. That color, along with the fact that the edge of the roof was chipped here and there, and that the lower edges of the house were coated in an overgrowth of green, told me that this house had been here for a while.

But I fell in love with it immediately. The ivy crawling up the sides of the house was pretty, curling zigzags of leaves and stems. The yellowing paint went quite nicely with the shutters and the dark brown roof. There was nothing intimidating or unwelcoming about this house whatsoever – which might've seemed ironic to anyone who didn't know the Slender Man. In fact, I think that even as I first laid eyes on it, I was beginning to call it home.

_Would you care to step inside, young one? _The Slender Man's pale, free hand motioned slowly towards the house. Gripping his lengthy finger just a little tighter, I nodded, a smile spreading across my face.

We walked up to the house together, ascending the three wooden steps to the porch and pausing in front of the door. The Slender Man fished a small, worn silver key out of the pocket of his black suit jacket, and delicately turned it in the lock on the knob. The door opened with a small creak, and I felt a long, lean hand pressing gently at my back to guide me inside.

The interior of the house was no less homey than the outside. There wasn't much extra space, but it felt quite cozy as opposed to cramped. The first, larger room was divided into two by a light grey sofa. A living room took up the space to the left, with a coffee table near the couch and an old fireplace in the corner. A couple of wooden chairs stood off to the side. To the right of the sofa was a dining space, with a very simple, five-light chandelier hanging from the ceiling by a silver chain. The table beneath it was wooden, with two chairs by it that matched the ones in the living room.

I stepped slowly through the doorway, as though I was afraid my weight would cause the floor to cave in, and my wide eyes ate up all that was around me. The old-fashioned lantern and box of matches on a shelf near the door didn't go unnoticed; neither did the pack of cards or glass stains on the coffee table.

Quietly, the Slender Man entered the house behind me, taking the key from the door as he closed it. He went over to the couch, slightly hunched over so that his head wouldn't hit the ceiling. Taking a seat at the farthest end, he gazed over at me calmly, watching me gawk at the place I'd now call home.

Home… Wow.

_Come sit with me, child. _The Slender Man gestured slowly with a long white hand. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face as I walked over to him, gladly putting my pinkish hand in his. I hadn't noticed how interesting the contrast between our skins was before. I was so busy peering at our hands that I hardly noticed his tentacle wrapping gently around my waist and lifting me off the floor. The next thing I knew, I was gazing wide-eyed at the Slender Man's face, seated comfortably on his knees. His tentacle retracted, and I was given something new to stare at as slowly, all of the black tendrils withdrew into his back. My jaw was hanging in wonder, and a deep sort of hum echoed in my head - the sound of the Slender Man smiling.

_You didn't think I went around with those things waving around, did you?_

That was the most informal thing he'd said thus far. I giggled. "I dunno."

I heard the thick rushing noise of the Slender Man sighing, but this was a more pleasant sigh than before. _Well… I don't think it would be proper for me to go on simply calling you 'child,' _he said, _especially now that you are…staying with me. So I must ask,_ w_hat is your name?_

I opened my mouth to answer… and then closed it again, staring off into space. In the years I grew up with my uncle, I never really had a name. That is, I know I must have had one, I just didn't know it. My uncle would never have used my real name anyway. No, he had much choicer words to call me. Words no toddler should ever have to hear.

By the age of three, I had literally started to believe that my name was "Little Female Dog." Of course it wasn't _that _word-for-word, but you know what I mean.

When I came back to earth, I was sitting cross-legged atop the Slender Man's knees, and I gaped up at his patient white face. I didn't have an answer for his question.

"I-I don't know," I stammered faintly.

_So__…__ you don__'__t know your own name? _The deep voice was still patient, but even at so young an age, I could detect confusion.

"No… no, Mr. Slender Man, I don't."

Leaning back on the battered cushions of the sofa, he seemed to be considering me. _You do have one, don__'__t you?_

"I think so…" Racking my little brain, I said frustratedly, "I just… can't remember."

_Well__… _The Slender Man's tentacles twirled thoughtfully in the air. _You _are_ going to stay with me__…__right__?_

"Yes." I nodded.

_Would you like me to give you a name?_

I perked up. A name? A name that wouldn't just be the first rude thing to pop into your head? A real name?

"Yeah!" I said in an excited whisper.

For the first time, I heard the Slender Man chuckle. An almost melodic "hm-hm-hm." It was a pleasant sound, if one that somewhat echoed around the walls of my skull.

"Please, Mr. Slender Man," I said eagerly, bouncing a little on his legs. "What's my name? What is it?"

He tipped his head to the side. Ever so slowly, he raised one hand, and touching my forehead delicately with a single thin finger, he said, _Mascara._

"Mascara," I murmured. "Mascara."

In my young mind, the word didn't register as a black substance used for making eyelashes look thicker. No – to me it was the kind of name that a fairy might have. Or a princess. Or maybe a tiger. (Why I thought of tigers I don't know, but it seemed to fit.)

The Slender Man nodded at me, removing his fingertip from my forehead. _Do you__… __like it?_

Beaming up at him, I said, "Yeah! I love it! I'm Mascara!" Jumping from his lap, I began running around the dimly-lit room, dancing around the old furniture, singing, "I'm Mascara! Mascara! Mascara!"

The Slender Man watched me prance around the room, the tendrils on his back waving calmly. As I ran back to him again, his face was as blank as ever, but I got the feeling that if he could, he would've been smiling.

With my hands on one of his legs, I jumped up and down, my face grinning childishly up at his. "Thank you, Mr. Slender Man! Thank you thank you thank you!"

Again, the melodic hum of his soft laughter entered my head. One of his tentacles reached over his shoulder to pat my head gently. _You can just call me Slendy. Okay?_

I stopped jumping, but my grin stayed. "Okay. Slendy."

The tentacle patted my head again before withdrawing. Gradually, the Slender Man – Slendy – stood up from the sofa, his blank gaze still resting on me. _Come, child, _he said. _You need a place to rest._

One of my small hands held on to the Slender Man's long finger as he guided me up a creaky set of stairs and down a thickly carpeted hallway. Turning through a doorway, he brought me into the room, the finger slipping out of my hand to touch my back gently. Then he pressed me slightly forward, and my eyes lit up at what I saw.

It was a bed. Nothing special to your average kid, but something truly awesome to me. It was a wonder compared to my old torn-up mattress — a headboard, a pillow, sheets and a comforter patterned like a maroon and gray checkerboard. They obviously weren't new – the comforter was thinning a little, and there were a few scratches here and there on the wood of the headboard. But I didn't care. It looked magnificent.

_I hope this will be all right for you, child._

I looked up at Slendy, my eyes shining. "It's awesome!" I whispered. "I haven't had a real bed before."

I felt his fingertip nudge me again. _Try it, then. Please._

He didn't need to tell me twice. I leapt on top of the bed, laughing for no reason other than sheer happiness. I flopped myself facedown, feeling the soft fabric under the palms of my hands, doing a sort of snow angel in the folds of the comforter. The bed smelled of dryer sheets, a scent I considered luxurious since my uncle hadn't gone to the laundromat often.

Lifting my face from the fabric, I saw the Slender Man watching me. It was the same kind of look as he'd had when he found me only hours ago. Moonlight shone through a window next to the headboard of the bed, illuminating the right half of his white face. The light gleamed ever so slightly on the Slender Man's tendrils, which waved around slowly as though casting a spell. In that moment, this creature, this man of such strange features that had initially scared me senseless — this man was beautiful.

Looking at him with my left cheek resting on the checkered comforter, I smiled. A deep, quiet hum in my head told me that Slendy was smiling too. Then he said, _Come. Let__'__s get you into bed, now, Mascara._

There was a magical touch to my new name as he uttered it. It made me giggle a little bit at the sound, but nonetheless I sat up and slid from the bed. The Slender Man came forward, swiftly and efficiently preparing it for me. His tentacles lifted the pillow as his hands folded back the covers. After a moment he turned to me. As though feeling a bit awkward, he asked, _Do you__…__need clothes to sleep in?_

"Pajamas?" I asked, unabashed by such a question at my age. "Not really. I'm okay."

Slendy seemed relieved for the time being, but he had me take off my shoes and socks. I sat on the edge of the bed and got one shoe off without a problem, but the laces on my other shoe got into a tight knot. I tugged at the strings without success of untying them. Then Slendy's pale fingers gently halted mine. Poking a thin fingertip between the laces, he untied the knot with ease, and then took off the shoe delicately. Placing it next to its partner at the foot of the bed, he said quietly, _Maybe I can help you untie some other__…__knots__…__in the future, Mascara. And you can help me untie mine._

I didn't quite understand the symbolism in his words just yet, but I smiled up at him nonetheless. He nodded at me, peeling my tattered socks from my little feet and laying them next to my shoes. _You need new socks,_ he observed.

The assertive tone of his voice made me giggle. He touched my forehead with his fingertip affectionately, and then motioned for me to lie down. I buried my cheek in the soft pillow, the Slender Man lifting the covers over me. He smoothed them into place around me. _Goodnight, Mascara._

"Goodnight," I replied lightly, but inside I was thrilled. He said "goodnight." No raspy threats or warnings. Just "goodnight."

Ah, this was truly a good night.

I closed my eyes happily, but for some reason I soon realized that I couldn't get to sleep. I was still buzzing with excitement over what all had happened to me that night. I mean, come on, how could I not be? I had a new home. I had a bed. I had the freaking Slender Man as my guardian! That gave me reason for excitement.

For several minutes I lay there with my eyes closed, not moving anywhere nearer to sleep. I could feel Slendy's presence remaining in the room. Opening my eyes just enough so I could see, I saw him sitting against the wall, his head turned to look out the window. The moonlight lit his face wonderfully, so much so that I let my eyes open entirely.

The Slender Man turned to look at me now. _Is anything the matter, Mascara?_

I jumped a little at his voice. I hadn't expected him to notice me. But I answered quietly, "S-Slendy… I can't sleep. I'm trying, but I can't."

_Hmmm__…_

Leaning forward, the Slender Man brought his knees to the thick carpet, coming to the side of the bed by sort of kneel-walking. Tipping his head to the side as though to look at me from a proper angle, he lifted a long, thin hand, hovering it hesitantly a few inches from my head.

_Do you mind if I touch you?_

I found this to be an odd question, as he'd touched me several times that night already. Anyway, I shook my head as best I could with half my face enveloped in pillow.

Very slowly, the white fingers lowered to just barely touch my cheek, and from there combed my hair away from my face. The Slender Man's hand then continued to gently run through my hair, his fingers easing through the somewhat tangled locks. His hand was cool, and the feeling of his fingertips running against my scalp was surprisingly soothing. As he stroked my hair, I began to sense the faintest bit of static, the noise so mellow it seemed to be simple white noise, like a breeze. Slendy was no doubt using what agitated so many others, to calm me. And it was perfectly effective. My eyelids fell closed all too soon, and it wasn't much longer before I began drifting off into dreams of a moonlit Slender Man in a dark, breezy forest.

The one thing I was conscious of before I fell asleep, was Slendy's voice in my head, deep, dark, and gentle:

_Sweet dreams__… __Mascara._


End file.
